


All That Matters

by sponsormusings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Prompts in Panem, a little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1334845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sponsormusings/pseuds/sponsormusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's her fault he's with the Capitol, her fault that his blood was splattered across the floor for the nation to see. And she refuses to let him be rescued without her being there. A submission for Prompts in Panem, March 2014. Day Two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Matters

She huddled in the small compartment, her body frozen, her breath caught in her throat. She was still surprised that she’d made it onto the hovercraft without being seen, without anyone stopping her, but she supposed all those years of moving through the woods nimbly and soundlessly would always pay off. She was thankful it had paid off today.

She hadn’t expected them to stop right outside of where she was crouched, had thought she’d hidden far enough away from the main passageways. But the argument between Gale and Boggs had seemed to fix them in place, with no sign of them moving anytime soon. The slim hope she’d had of sneaking out to regain some feelings in her legs had long gone.

“Look, we still don’t really know what we’re walking into,” Boggs snapped.  “All we have to go on is Plutarch’s word; who knows what Snow has changed since his defection to the rebellion became common knowledge.”

“And I’m only coming to make sure we get him out,” Gale retorted, and she could hear the frustration in his voice that he’d levelled at her so often in the last year. “I don’t care how we do it, as long as we do it.”

“I never thought of you as a cheerleader for Mellark.”

“I’m not,” Gale said bluntly. “I’m only doing it for Katniss. She’s damn well falling apart back there, and she’s not doing anyone any good the way she is.”

Katniss inhaled sharply at the way Gale spoke of her, with such pent up anger _._ She wondered what else he said about her behind her back, what he _really_ thought about her right now. They’d been wary of each other for weeks, the fragility of their friendship obvious. Maybe it really was beyond repair.

That wasn’t what hurt the most though. Because even after everything they’d been through, everything they’d suffered, he still didn't really care about Peeta.

********

Her success in sneaking onto the hovercraft undetected wasn’t replicated an hour later when she slid out of the compartment.

Boggs' hand gripped her wrist tightly, and she pushed at the long trails of hair that had fallen over her eyes as she snarled at him.

"You shouldn't be here, Katniss," he said firmly. "You don't know what you're doing."

"Neither do you," she hissed. "I'm here for Peeta. He needs to be safe. He needs to be in Thirteen.  He needs...he needs..." she broke off, swallowing the sob that threatened to tear her throat in two. _He needs to be with me_. But she steeled herself, straightened her spine as much as she could. "He needs to come home."

"You're not prepared for this."

"It doesn't matter. You said so yourself that you don't know if Snow has changed anything since Plutarch escaped, so how can you be so assured that _you're_ prepared?" If Boggs was surprised that Katniss had overheard his conversation with Gale, he didn't show it.

He sighed. “How did you even know about the mission?”

“I wasn’t out as long as you all expected I’d be,” she said sharply. “And there’s a lot you can hear with your eyes closed.”

Boggs shook his head. “Coin is going to be pissed. You know this is dangerous.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve been in two arenas, Boggs.  You don’t need to tell me about dangerous.”

Silence dragged on, only the faint hum of the hovercraft surrounding them. "Fine," he finally said, and she could already hear the regret. "Let's find you something better to wear than this."

********

The gun still felt foreign in her hand - it was heavy and cold and awkward, and nothing like the fluid lightness of her bow. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. She held her arms in front of her, the gun clasped in them, the trigger under her finger. One eye closed, focused on the target in front of her.

She pulled the trigger.

It wasn't a real gun - Boggs had looked at her like she was crazy when she asked, and had handed her an identical training weapon instead - but the trajectory of where the bullet would have gone showed clearly on the human outline traced on the steel wall.

The right shoulder. Not a kill shot, but enough to slow someone down. And with as little experience as she had, it was the best she could hope for.

The hovercraft continued, undetected, into the night.

********

She expected nightmares that night but she didn't get them.

Instead, she dreamt of his eyelashes, of the freckle that dotted the skin of his neck just below his ear.

She dreamt of a kiss on a beach, a kiss she'd never known she wanted or needed until she had it.

She dreamt of a promise of midnight, and a wish that hadn't been fulfilled.

********

"Katniss, you come with me. Gale, you're with Jackson and Mitchell," Boggs instructed.

"Why?" Gale replied. "I should be with Katniss. Someone needs to make sure she's okay."

"That's my job," Boggs said calmly.

“I think I’ll be better with her.”

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Katniss snapped.

"Katniss-"

"No." She interrupted Gale bluntly, still smarting from the words she’d heard him utter to Boggs the night before. "I'm going with Boggs. To save Peeta. He's all that matters, not me."

"But-"

"No, Gale."

She yanked her assigned belt - a little too large, but she’d punched an extra hole in it so that it would fit better - off the table, affixed it around her waist. "I'll meet you all in the cargo hold when we're ready to leave."

She stalked out of the room, to the compartment she’d stowed away in, curled herself into its limited space.  Her spine ached, but she didn’t care.

The tears were hot and heavy in her chest, and spilled onto her cheeks.

_This had to work._

********

She should have known it would be the training centre.

She didn’t know enough about technology or masking agents; all she knew was that the hovercraft had managed to set them down directly on top of the roof undetected. If she felt a hitch in her heart as she remembered the last time she’d been on this roof, she tried to ignore it.

Boggs pointed out a series of signals, ones that she’d had to memorise in about 15 minutes. She nodded, but ultimately just followed him.  They snuck around the shining glass dome that topped the building, stopping until they surrounded it in a perfect circle. She pulled the heavy duty suction cap out of the small cross-body bag she carried, attached it to the ground, looping the harness she wore to it. Her heart pounded, her head ached.  She longed for morphling, for the cupboard she’d made her home.

But she wanted Peeta more.

She took a deep breath, moved her mask into place. She waited for the count of three, for the crack of glass from the pulse that Boggs aimed towards the centre of the dome with a small remote.

She jumped.

********

Smoke rose around them, clouding her vision. She heard the crack of gunfire, of shouts, to both _run!_ and _shoot now!_ She ignored it all, focused on the hall in front of her, slowly creeping down it behind Boggs. She heard a curse that sounded like Gale, and for a moment was tempted to go back.

 _Peeta_.

But she didn’t. She kept moving. Boggs knew where he was going, where their target was.

The cacophony behind them quieted, and footsteps thundered to catch up to them, with a warning call of _All clear!_ They took the elevator to the floor Plutarch had advised, the doors sliding open to reveal a darkened corridor, lights flickering intermittently. The air was metallic, a sharp tang that made Katniss’ throat ache.

It was blood.

She heard murmurs, a faint female sob, a groan.

“Katniss, with me,” Boggs hissed. She nodded, felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Gale behind her, his hair sticking out waywardly above the mask he wore. The shoulder of his suit was shiny even in the low light, and she reached a hand towards it; it came away slick with blood.

“Are you ok?” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though his wince said otherwise. “Just….I just want to make sure _you’re_ ok. We don’t know what kind of shape he’ll be in.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said simply.  “All I want is him back.” She squeezed his hand, a gesture that she would rarely show him otherwise. Then she spun on her heel, and followed Boggs down into the dark.

********

She was naked, curled up in a ball, her hair dark, lank trails that roped over her shoulders. Her nails were bitten to the quick, her eyes blank and unseeing.

Mitchell carried Annie Cresta from the cell without a word.

********

The bald woman didn’t look like Johanna. Sores covered her body, pale green pus and dried blood staining her skin. Bruises bloomed on her stomach, on her chest, one eye purple and swollen to twice its size.

She slapped Gale’s hand away when he tried to carry her, but she allowed him to guide her steps.

********

 _There he was_.

He was curled in the corner, his back to them. His blond hair was matted, dirty. His shirt was damp, and stained with sweat, and his arms covered in cuts. But it was him, it was Peeta.  She had him back.  He could come back to Thirteen.  He would be safe.

 _With her_.

“Peeta!” She couldn’t help it. It fell from her lips before she could stop herself, her feet carrying her through the cell door that Boggs had yanked open. He whirled, his eyes wide, shocked, frightened.

And then he stood, his mouth firming, his blue eyes icing over. His hands closed around her throat before she even realised what was happening.

********

Her breath caught, her hands scrabbled against his, fighting fruitlessly against his strength. His fingers dug into her flesh, his thumb pressing against her windpipe as he glared at her, full of fury and anger and _hate_.

“Peeta, no!” She heard Boggs stern voice behind her, even through the thin haze of fog that permeated her brain.

“I’ll kill her!” Peeta yelled.  “I’ll kill your fucking Mockingjay, and then where will you be?!” He glared at her again, bitterness falling from his lips. “You mutt.”

Voices jumbled together in her head, mixing and melding until she didn’t know who was saying what.

_Shoot him!_

_I can’t get a clear shot without hitting Katniss!_

_They’re coming! Shit, shit, they’re coming.  We’ve got to get out of here!_

There was gunfire, the sound of doors banging.

_Boggs, just do it!_

_DO IT!_

The tranquilizer dart skimmed the side of her forehead, embedded itself into Peeta’s neck. His eyes rolled back, his grip loosened.

They both slumped to the floor in a heap. The last thing Katniss saw was Peeta’s eyes, angry, scared...and confused. His mouth began to form a word…

 _And then she was out_.

********

She woke with a start, her eyes snapping open to stare at the grey ceiling above her. Her fingers reached for her throat, felt the cool silver collar that encircled it.

_What was this? Where was she? What was wrong with her th-_

It all came crashing back, and a sob escaped her throat, though it ached and scratched as it fell from her lips.

She heard a scraping of chair legs against the hard concrete floor, turned her head to see Haymitch beside her; his eyes were tired, his shoulders slumped.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “You doing alright?”

“We're back in Thirteen?  Did we do it?” She didn’t care if she was alright - she just wanted to make sure it had been a success.

He nodded. “You’re back. You got them out - barely - and you’re all here.”

“And Peeta? Is he ok?”

Haymitch looked away, cleared his throat awkwardly, tapped his fingers against the arm of the plastic chair he sat in, before fixing his gaze to hers. “About the boy..." He swallowed heavily. "We have to talk.” He began, his words murmured, halting, laced with anger and frustration and loss. Her blood felt like ice, her heart ached and cracked in two. She had nothing to say when Haymitch finished, the silence falling over them like a weight.

_They’d broken him.  And he hated her._

 


End file.
